


On These Golden Wings

by naasad



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Animal Traits, Dubious Science, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Raised in a Lab, Referenced Death of a Pregnant Person, Super Soldiers, carwash siblings, technically slavery?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: David was made to slay giants.





	On These Golden Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Title and tags subject to change as I figure out where the hell I'm going with this fic. Rated M because I'd rather rate too high than too low and then have to change it and alienate readers. Helpful, respectful suggestions are welcome. Please review! 
> 
> ~~I might end up working on some Recollection-era one-shots in the same universe before writing the next chapter, but we'll see.~~

Interns scattered as the Doctor threw open the doors and stormed to the lab.

“Sir!” one brave scientist called, running up to him. “Did Dr. Church sign over his rights to the fetus?”

“Indeed, he did.”

“Did you tell him it was still viable?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s a good thing the public still thinks gynecology is a mystery. Oh, here, sir. The board gave us ten broad categories of animal with which to experiment. I’ve sorted them by traits – anatomical and instinctual.”

The Doctor took the offered clipboard and scanned the spreadsheet, mouth quirking up at the corners. “Make this look a little more professional and I’ll include it in our next report. Dismissed.”

He wandered up to the gestation tank and grinned, putting a hand up against the glass. “Good morning, David. When you’re all grown up, you’re going to help us take down some giants.”

 

* * *

 

 

The Director stared at the soldier in front of him. He was entirely unnerving – a fresh-faced youth with slitted pupils, needle-like teeth, and too-long fingers without any nail to be seen. Not to mention the golden-brown wings that dwarfed the man they were attached to.

He looked – He looked like Allison somehow.

“What project did you say you were from again?”

“Project Minotaur, sir! My name is David, no last name.”

The Director nodded slowly, remembering a man – a scientist like himself shortly after Allison’s death – and burning with rage. “Well, David, welcome to Project Freelancer. Report to the infirmary for a full physical exam or to deliver your bypass papers, then pick up your power armor and weapons in the armory.”

David frowned. “Power… armor?” He glanced behind at his wings. “I mean, I have a harness to strap them to my back, but only as a last resort. There are health complications, and I feel this would be giving up an important advantage.”

“We don’t want to disturb the other agents,” the Director snapped. _And I don’t want to see my dead wife and child every time I look at you._ “For that reason, you will remain armored and helmeted at all times. **_All_** times, Agent.”

Those great and terrible wings shivered, drooped. A feather dropped to the floor. “Yes, sir.”

“You will now respond to the codename Agent Washington. Dismissed.” He turned his back, couldn’t look at that face any longer, though it was burned in his memory now.

“Yes, sir.”

The doors hissed open, then closed.

The Director turned to find the feather still there.

_Allison…._


End file.
